


The Captain & His Favourite Toy

by DisViciousGirl



Category: Torchwood
Genre: BDSM Scene, Captain John Hart - Freeform, Consensual Non-Consent, D/s, F/M, M/M, Top John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-07-11 19:16:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7066687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisViciousGirl/pseuds/DisViciousGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain John Hart has a very special toy. It could even be you...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Told myself I shouldn't come here. Knowing him like I do, I really shouldn't. Who willingly puts themselves into the hands of a bonafide, mad-as-a-hatter killer (the rehab didn't work) with a libido the size of a planet and more kinks than you can crack a whip at? The problem is that he's like a drug - ironic really, considering his own host of addictions (again, the rehabs - plural - didn't work). Whether it's that knowing smile, those sparkling eyes or the 51st century pheromones that he uses without compunction... I'm hopelessly addicted and I'll always return for just one more hit. And he knows it.

I arrive at the address he sent me and it turns out to be a fetish club; no surprises there. I give a name at reception and refuse to meet the snooty woman's eye as she looks over my casual outfit of jeans and a t-shirt. She pushes a keycard towards me and directs me down a corridor to one of the private rooms and I walk away without a backward glance.

As I move further along the hallway my stomach turns over with delicious anticipation and then my heart skips a beat when a door opens up ahead and a man steps out. It's not him though and so I barely spare him a glance as he passes me. I stop at the correct door and present the card, pushing it when I hear the lock whir and click open. I step inside and close it behind me, all the while staring at the floor. I can smell the familiar tang of cinnamon and lemon and something else that I've never been able to place. I inhale deeply and lift my head.

The room is empty.

The lights are dimmed and so I take a couple more steps in and look more carefully into the corners and over by the bed but there's no question that I'm alone in here. There's a table off to the left on top of which sits a fairly large box. Curiosity seeps in and I edge closer, still looking around for signs of him even though the lingering scent of pheromones means that he was likely here just moments ago.

There's a crash, the door opens and he strides in, the sudden loud interruption making me curse in surprise. "Fuck!"

He smirks lasciviously. "Well yeah, but I figured we'd have some foreplay first." His eyes twinkle and it steals my breath.

"John," his name leaves my lips in a happy sigh.

The smirk remains but I see his eyes become stormy and in two short steps he's in front of me. Considers me for half a second and then he slaps my face, hard. Pain blooms in my cheek and I think I cry out but then that's cut off as he grabs a handful of my hair and drags my head back.

"Who?" His voice is steel.

"Captain!" I gasp as I try to catch up to speed with the sudden burst of movement.

"Better," he says approvingly and my knees grow weak as he mouths at my throat. Kisses and licks become nips and bites and I whine in helpless pleasure at the assault. Without relinquishing his grip on my hair he kisses me roughly, tongue plundering my mouth as his free hand tweaks at my nipples through the t-shirt. I grasp at his waist in a bid to stay upright, the familiar softness of his dark red coat disguising the hard muscle beneath his own shirt. In the back of my mind I wonder if he'll let me touch him this time...

The savage kiss ends as abruptly as it began and I'm sure I can taste blood. He pushes me away gently. "Strip," he says, sliding his hands into his back pockets. His hips slouch forward and a bulge is easily discernible through the dark blue denim. I'm as eager to get started as he is and so I quickly obey, throwing my clothes to one side. Once I'm naked he prowls slowly around me in a circle and I have to fight the urge to turn with him. Every instinct tells me that I shouldn't let this man be at my unguarded back, but the fear just heightens my arousal. I jump and shiver as his fingertips dance across my shoulders and he chuckles and presses up close. His arm snakes around me following the line of my collarbone and holds me tight against him, his mouth at my ear. "Feeling a little nervous are we, gorgeous?"

My head falls back against his shoulder. "No, Captain." I put everything I have into keeping my voice steady. Still holding me tight he moves his other hand down between my legs, stroking gently and I bite my lip before the whimper of need can escape. I both love and hate that he can get to me so easily.

"No, Captain..." he repeats as he idly continues his ministrations. He licks up my neck and this time I can't stop the moan. "I think you're lying to me aren't you, pretty?" The stroking slows. "Hmm?"

We both know he's right, and I'm still trying to decide which answer will get me in the least trouble when a sharp pain lances through me and I cry out in shock. John releases my earlobe from between his teeth. "What do you say?" He prompts, his warm breath tickling my ear.

""M sorry, Captain..." I do my best contrite voice and smile to myself when his tongue caresses the spot he hurt, stroking it better.

Light butterfly kisses come next, but as ever it's a double edged sword. "Really?" Kiss. "Hmm?" Kiss. "How sorry are you, pretty?" Kiss. The threat-tinged words belie the gentle touches and quiet tone. He turns me roughly in his grasp, neatly capturing my wrists with one hand he cups my face tenderly with the other, thumb stroking my cheek. "How sorry am I going to make you?"

"I'll do anything you want," I answer and then will the ground to open up and swallow me; clearly I left my brain behind at the door.

His expression turns almost pitying. "Of course you will, gorgeous." He leans in and presses his lips briefly to mine, his hand on my face preventing me from chasing for more when he pulls away. "You don't have a choice." The pity is replaced suddenly with a cold, angry stare as he grinds out, "Now get on your fucking knees before I lose my temper."

I hit the floor almost before he's finished speaking and risk a glance up at him, but he turns away and walks to the box (that I never got the chance to investigate) and rummages through it. I can't see what he takes out, but then I don't think about it anymore because he's coming back. He stops a couple of feet away and runs a hand over the bulge in his jeans. I stare at the carpet, knowing better than to look up.

"Adore you on your knees," he mutters and then his hands are at his belt, unbuckling it with fast, efficient movements. The wide brown strip of worn leather comes loose and he doubles it over and then snaps it together, the crack echoing throughout the room. The implication of the sound makes me shudder and as always with him, nothing goes unnoticed. He loops the belt around my neck and threads it, pulling until the buckle presses against my windpipe. I swallow hard just to feel the restriction and he notices that, too. Winds the belt around his fist, tightening it little by little. It quickly becomes difficult to draw breath and I feel my face getting hot and tingly. He uses the makeshift leash to manoeuvre my head back and smirks down at me.

"Snug enough for you?" He flexes his arm, easing the pressure on and off.

"Yes, Captain... Thank you." On the little oxygen I'm being permitted the words are an effort and my voice thin.

He looks pleased. "Such a polite slut."

He turns and leads me across the room to the chair that sits beside the bed. As I crawl obediently to heel I try not to think about what might be on the carpet. Sometimes it's plush hotels, gentle words and soft caresses... And sometimes it's this. I bend unquestioningly to his desires because whether he's bringing pleasure or pain, I want it.

He stops. Sits. The steady pressure of the belt never wavers as he deftly unbuttons his jeans and shoves them down just far enough. He tugs the leash and I move forward eagerly, only to be brought up short by his hand in my hair.

"Ah, ah! Someone's forgetting their manners," he says, and raises his eyebrows expectantly. I silently chide myself for falling into that little trap and lick my lips.

"Can I - " My words are cut off when he jerks the belt tight and leans forward. Keeps the pressure on until he can see me beginning to struggle and when he speaks his tone is one of infinite patience, as though we've been over this a thousand times already.

"Ask. Nicely."

He releases the pressure and I gasp for air while my hand automatically moves to my neck with the intent of loosening the belt but he slaps it away. I look up at him with what I hope is an appealing expression.

"Please, Captain? Please will you let me..?" My voice trails off and I bite my lip, unable to say the words. He knows how hard I find this and that's exactly why he's doing it.

I see the cold, intimidating look in his eyes thaw slightly as he looks down at me. "Please will I let you what, slut? Tell me." His voice is soft and encouraging as he palms himself briefly with his left hand. A thin line of pre-come appears and then snaps; it clings to his thumb and I stare at the shining wetness when he takes his hand away. He reaches out and brushes the digit over my bottom lip in a glossy trail. "Tell me," he says again.

My tongue darts out and searches hungrily for every last drop. I salivate, wanting more but I know there's only one way to get it. Maybe it's the pheromones, but the small taste and the way it was delivered has squashed some of my inhibition. I lean forward, one hand curls around his ankle and the other finds its way on to his opposite shin as though I'm going to crawl right up his legs and into his lap. His tongue curls behind his teeth and he grins in satisfaction as he watches my mental dam break.

"Please, let me taste you... Please, Captain..?" I'm straining against the leather around my throat, willingly cutting off my own air now as I try to get closer. "Want to suck your cock - please Captain, sir, please!"

I'm still babbling as he shifts forward and pulls my head towards him, thrusting up into my mouth. I moan around his dick as he lets me explore, re-learning every delicious inch. I curl my tongue as I work up and down and then carefully - oh, so bloody carefully - let my teeth graze his flesh on an upstroke. That earns me a hiss of pleasure and a murmured, "Ohhh darling, you remembered..." His very obvious delight spurs me on and I seem to be doing a good job and so I'm shocked when he unceremoniously hauls my head back up and I look at him in confusion. He taps my cheek with one finger. "Open."

Dumbly I open my mouth and try to scoot back when he stands but he still hasn't let go of the belt and has taken a renewed grip on my hair. He towers over me and I feel my stomach tighten with a rush of submissive lust.

He pushes slowly into my mouth - almost too far and I twitch, worried it will trigger my gag reflex but then he slides out again. I close my mouth for a second to swallow and he growls and pulls on the belt. "I said open!" I obey straight away and he pushes in again; harder this time and I instinctively try to pull away from him, but his hold is too strong. This time he does go far enough to make me gag but he doesn't slow his movement or pull out. My fingers grasp at his leg and I feel it tense but when I don't signal to him he tugs on the belt and pushes all the way into my throat where he stops.

"Get your hands behind your back, and keep them there." He waits until I've obeyed and then rocks his hips, the head of his cock tickling the reflex again and then adds, "If I see them again before I'm done, I will punish you, understand?"

Just as I'm wondering how the hell I'm supposed to answer him in my current state he suddenly   
pulls out and I desperately inhale huge gulps of precious oxygen between coughing as I nod frantically.

"Y - Yes, Captain!"

I've barely got the words out before he thrusts back into my mouth and I can do nothing but hang in his grasp while he develops a sadistic pattern of face-fucking and choking me. He cuts off my air by sliding his cock into my throat until it spasms and then pulls back, letting my tortured lungs think it's over. When I try to take a breath he pulls the belt tight after allowing me the barest minimum of oxygen and I know it won't be long until I pass out, and wonder if he'd stop even then. My eyes start to close and then I'm jerked awake by a hard pull on my hair.

"Not going to pass out on me, are you gorgeous? You're so beautiful like this, all desperate... Ohhh, fuck yes... That's it, yeah... Swallow again, fuuuuuck..."

I'm dimly aware that he's dropped the belt because the hand that held it is now on the other side of my head as he saws back and forth, keeping me completely still - and helpless. Tears cloud my vision and I blink them away as I grip my hands together tighter behind my back, trying to focus on his words.

"That's right, pretty slut... So tight..." His head falls back. "Ohhh, so good! Choking just to please me..." He looks back down at me, smiles, and everything narrows as I look into his eyes until there's nothing except his intense gaze. "So desperate... Can you swallow for me again, pretty?" Frantically I do as his asks, show him that I can obey. He gasps then and a thrill goes through me, grows when he speaks again.

"So good baby, you're doing so well... Just a little more..." His fingers clench in my hair, his steady rhythm falters and I know he's getting close. "That's it - take it - unngh! Ffffffuck! Take - it!" He drags me up tightly against him as he comes, the first shot hitting the back of my throat and the rest spreading across my tongue as he rides it out, holding me in place. Finally he slips out of my mouth and collapses back down into the chair, basking in the afterglow as I'm on the floor beneath him, gasping for air and coughing with tears running down my face.

Nicely recovered from his orgasm, he hauls himself up straight again in the chair and brushes a hand back through my hair, before shaking off the strands he pulled loose. Reaches out and loosens the belt, easing it gently away from my skin before removing it completely. "You can move your hands now pretty," he says and I find I have to consider the mechanics before actually doing it. I'm acutely aware that I must look a mess and wipe self-consciously at my face to try and remove the inevitable tear tracks and saliva. As though he can sense my discomfort he looks away for a moment while I gather myself, wrapping the belt into a neat coil he bends down to stash it under the chair and then I see him pause.

"Hm." 

He sounds disgruntled and having cleaned up my face as best I can I look at him, but his head is still down. I follow his line of sight, trying to figure out the source of his irritation - maybe a previous visitor to this room left something behind and - oh. Oh, fuck. My heart sinks when I realise what he's looking at. He looks up at me, though he's pointing down.

"What's that?"

I already know exactly what it is but I look at his boot anyway, even though I'm just delaying the inevitable. "It - it's your come, sir."

He crosses his legs, lifting the splattered boot higher into the air where he contemplates it with a raised eyebrow. "My come," he repeats flatly. "Perhaps you would be good enough to tell me, SLUT, precisely WHY my come is on my boot, instead of coating your freshly..." He turns the full power of his gaze on me as he finishes his sentence, "Fucked. Throat?"

I stare at him for a moment. He knows damn well why - he choked me half to death and left me coughing up all over the place! The look in his eyes is almost challenging, as though he's daring me to break form and bite back. I'm sure he'd love that.

I lick my lips and swallow the flash of anger, because as he's spent so many hours teaching me, that's not part of the game; my role is to please him. He may enjoy punishing me, but he'll enjoy even more me being the dutiful sub. I cast my eyes back down. "I'm sorry, Captain. It just happened- I coughed and it just - I didn't mean to."

He tilts his head to one side. "Didn't mean to what? Spit it out? Make a mess? Ruin my footwear?"

I contemplate the brown leather boots and resist the urge to point out that a) a few drops of bodily fluid hardly constitutes ruined and b) that coughing is not akin to spitting. To actually say any of those things though would be suicide. Instead I look back up at him and reply, "I didn't mean to do any of it, Captain. It was an accident, I promise."

Elbows propped on the arms of the chair he steeples his fingers together. "That's a lot of accidents. Very careless, and of course you need to be punished. But first thing's first," he uncrosses his legs and plants his feet firmly on the floor. "Clean it up."

"Yes, Captain." I shuffle backwards and lower my head to the floor. The faint smell of leather drifts up to me and I close my eyes, breathing it in, before I stick out my tongue and lick over the surface, washing away the largest spot of pearlescent fluid. The bitter tang of the leather mixes with his unique flavour and my mouth waters. A fresh burst of arousal washes over me as I really think about how I must look right now, subjugating myself. I carefully lick up two more drops, returning to the same spot again to make sure I haven't missed any. There's only one left now but I don't stop when it's gone - I don't want to. I lick over every inch of leather that I can reach until he moves his foot and rests it on my back. I wait patiently for his verdict but all I hear is a sharp,

"I didn't say stop. There's another one there, you know."

I don't need telling twice and eagerly set to work, licking in broad strokes first across the top of the boot and then down and along the sides. Only a couple of tiny spots actually hit this foot but one of my early lessons was 'diligence in all things' and so I do every bit as thorough job as I did before, especially since I have no idea whether he's watching me or not. I'm midway through a long sweep around the toe when he moves his foot and it crosses over the other, resting on my back. I stay still on all fours, unable to raise my head because of his leg laying across my neck.

"You've made quite a good job of that," he says thoughtfully.

"Thank you, Captain." The weight of his feet on me is strangely comforting, but I know what's coming next. It does. He moves his legs and plants his feet again.

"Stand up."

I carefully get to my feet and stand before him - and put my hands behind my back to stop me fidgeting, because he hates that.

"Look at me." I do. "Which rule?"

If I weren't so nervous about what's coming I would inwardly roll my eyes at what I not-so-affectionately refer to as Captain Hart's Stupid Fucking Shit-List. His own special list of crimes so heinous that they warrant instant punishment. At first I struggled with the concept of how a murderous con-artist could consider talking back to him to be a misdeed worthy of being tied up and gagged but as I've come to learn, his parameters with me are (thankfully) different. I'm good at remembering his rules; mainly because the penalty for forgetting one is that I'm given the punishments for all six - in succession. He only had to do it once, after which I assured him that I'd be able to remember them even if I had a bullet in my leg and was bleeding out. Had to renege on that PDQ when he looked a bit too interested in testing the theory. I swallow. I've had the few seconds he allows me to name my transgression.

"Rule three, Captain. I was careless with your gift to me."

He nods. "Go and fetch it, then."

It's another test, sending me to select what he needs to punish me. I walk to the table and see it laying there. The box is next to it but I don't even speculate as to what might be inside it anymore. All I can think about is the stick of pure evil that my fingertips are resting on. His carbon fibre cane. It's easily my most hated item in his arsenal and half the punishments on his stupid list mean that he gets to use it. I pick it up gingerly and stare at it, wishing that if only I -

"I'm waiting." His voice breaks through my thoughts and I turn away from the table and return to him, clutching it tightly. He waits until I'm stood before him, the cane resting across my palms in offering. He must be able to see my hands trembling.

"And the punishment for this carelessness?" He asks.

The unfairness of the situation begins to rise in me again and when I answer I really struggle to keep the petulance out of my voice. "The five-minute six, Captain."

"Correct." He stands and removes his jacket, revealing a black v-neck t-shirt that shows off his strong, slightly tanned arms. As he smooths his jacket down and hangs it carefully on a hook, I admire his lean form and wish that I wasn't seeing it under these circumstances. He finally takes the cane from me and gestures with it. "Into position."

I walk around him to the chair and bend double over the back of it. Head down, I place my hands on the sides of the seat and know that the clock is now ticking. The five-minute six. For the first minute I am left to contemplate my fate before the punishment starts, from the second to fourth minutes the six strokes are delivered, each thirty seconds apart. He says this allows me to fully absorb the cycle of each stroke - seems to me that it gives me just enough time to almost recover from one before the next comes crashing down. The final minute is further reflection time and then I'm allowed to move.

My heart is thudding in my ears when I hear a swish off to my right and I tense automatically for the blow before realising that he's just getting a feel for it. God, I hate this bit! If only I'd covered my mouth when I coughed, this wouldn't be happening. Another swish. I jump slightly when his hand strokes over my backside and then he must have bent down, too because I'm suddenly aware of his head close to mine.

"Ready?" His voice is a low murmur in my ear and I suppress a shudder.

There's only one proper answer. "Yes, Captain."

He moves away and I wonder how far into the first minute we are, how much longer I've got to wait until -

_**Crack!** _

For the first second or two I feel virtually nothing and then the burning, stinging pain blooms and begins to grow. I have a mad thought that it's not too bad and just as I become accustomed to the pain the second _**crack!**_ echoes as he lays down the second stroke and the feeling intensifies, but I still manage to keep quiet ~ not that he minds if I become vocal but I like to try and tough it out at least for a short time.

_**Crack!** _

I grip the edges of the chair a little tighter and let out a whine through clenched teeth. Halfway there, I try to think to myself. You're halfway there... The pain is still building, concentrated across the thin lines - the lines that he'll be so pleased with when this is over.

_**Crack!** _

I can't keep silent any longer and I begin a quiet litany of, "Oh god, oh god, oh, god..."

"That's right, precious. Let it out - you know I love to hear the effect I have on you... Scream for me, darling," His voice is suddenly a shade darker and it makes me whimper.

**_Crack!_ **

Unable to stop myself I yell - my hands are gripping the seat so tightly that my fingers are hurting. I know there's only one more to go but I can't, I can't, the pain is relentless and I just CAN'T!

As if reading my mind, he begins to speak gentle words of encouragement and even praise. "Just one more, pretty - you're nearly done. Taking your punishment so well for me... Last one, now..."

_**Crack!** _

He brings the final stroke down diagonally across the five existing lines and I sob, my tears spilling over finally. I wait in position while he returns the cane to the table and then I feel the usual sense of mild embarrassment as I stand there, arse up, while the final minute of my chastisement ticks by.

"Such lovely marks," he says, and I tremble as his fingertips wander across the damaged skin, gently exploring the results of his handiwork. "I hope you never stop breaking my rules, pretty, because I love marking you up like this.." He traces each welt, making me hiss with pain and rise up on to my toes when he presses firmly across the sixth line (please don't please don't please don't..).

His hand leaves my backside and strokes down my back. "Up you come now, gorgeous."

I stand immediately - a bit too quickly, but when I sway his arms go around me instantly and hold me tight. I cling to him then and bury my face in his neck as I hold on to him just as tightly, still a bit shaken from my punishment I whimper quietly.

He rocks me gently and shushes me, pressing soft kisses to my forehead and temple as he murmurs endearments. "All done now precious and you were so good. Let's take a minute now, pretty," he says, and somehow guides me across the room without letting go and takes a bottle of water from an ice bucket. Unscrews the cap with his arms still around me and then gets me to kneel on the bed. He remains standing and keeps a gentle hand on the back of my neck as he places the bottle at my lips. It's only water, but I've never tasted anything so good and when I've got the bottle held steady with my own two hands he strokes gently over my shoulders as I drink. "Are you having fun, precious?" He asks. "Want to keep going?"

I take a final swallow of water and nod. "Yes, Captain - please."

He smiles, taking the nearly empty bottle from me and drains the last of it himself. "Good. Lay down for me now and get your breath back." I do as he says and stretch out on my front, but then he joins me, pulls me gently on to my side and spoons up against me. I wince slightly at the feeling of his rough denim against my sore arse but at the same time it makes me smile - I'll still have those marks for a while; a reminder. He strokes a hand down my side. "Not too cold?"

"No, Captain - my backside's radiating heat!"

He chuckles, biting my shoulder playfully and then we just lay in comfortable silence for a while. His hands don't seem to leave my body for a moment; stroking, tapping, scratching... the gentle attention makes me want to kiss him and I resolve to ask him later if I may.

Suddenly he shifts and rolls off the bed. "Right. Now you have a special task, pretty. Up you get."

When I'm upright he rests his hand on the back of my neck gently and walks me across the room.

"You're going to pick two things that you want me to use on you, and then we're going to play a game." We stop in front of the table and he nudges me forward. "You can ask me about anything in there, but once you've handed it over to me and said yes then there's no going back, understand?"

I nod solemnly, a little bit thrown by this new approach. I'm allowed to choose? I pull the box towards me and my pulse quickens as I look at the contents. He lounges next to me, leaning back against the table with his arms folded. Tentatively, I poke around in the box but whenever I pick something up he makes a noise; first a warning hiss, next an overly-interested "hmmm", then a sly chuckle. Exasperated, I look up to find him staring straight ahead and I realise he hasn't even been paying attention to anything I've been looking at - the rat. He turns and looks at me and when he sees the petulant scowl on my face he laughs.

"I'm sorry, gorgeous - it was too good to resist. Have you chosen yet?"

I pick up something that glints and catches my eye - a black case with his initials on the front in silver lettering. I look at him for permission and when he smiles and nods I open the case to reveal three metal devices, each with spikes on the end. One with a single spiked wheel, another with three, and a final one that has more than I can easily count without examining it more closely. I press a finger lightly on the one with the single row of spikes.

"What are they?"

  
"Pinwheels," he says, taking the case from me. "Let me show you how they feel." He slides the triple-wheeled device from the case and takes hold of my wrist. Keeping a steady pressure, he runs the wheel slowly up my arm in a prickly trail that manages to tickle slightly at the same time and I gasp quietly. He smiles, his tongue curling behind his teeth in a suggestive leer as he runs it back down again, more firmly this time. "Now imagine feeling it somewhere more... sensitive, hm?"

I meet his eyes and nod. "Pl... Please?"

He returns the pinwheel to the case and smiles. "This your first choice then, pretty?"

"Yes please, Captain,"

"As you wish. One more."

Feeling a sudden need for familiarity I reach for the leather paddle, remembering that I enjoyed it last time. He started so gently and it made me feel warm and spaced-out by the end, like I'd taken a drug. He takes it from me but then sets it down again to one side. "Not today. Wouldn't be as nice for you over the top of those cane welts - pick another for me."

I return my attention to the box and poke around again, sighing happily when he stands close behind me, taking advantage of my bent head to worry at the back of my neck with tongue and teeth. I can't help but push back against him and sore arse be damned as I quiver under the sensual assault.

"Trouble concentrating?" He asks between bites and I can hear his smile.

"A little, Captain," I confess as I steadfastly focus on the contents of his box of tricks. I see a flash of leather and close my fingers around it. As I lift, it drags other items with it and I realise they're caught up in chains.

"Ohhhh, what a lovely choice!" He says, finally leaving my neck alone and reaching around me to help with untangling the chains. A moment later and I'm holding a black leather collar sporting D rings and chains with clamps at the end. I feel a bolt of lust at the sight of the clamps - we've played with them before and I discovered that I actually enjoyed a little pain. "Is this what you choose?" He adds softly, rubbing gently at the back of my neck.

"Yes Captain," I affirm. "The pinwheels... and this."

He nods. "Back over there and wait for me."

I return to the bed, settling back down and breathing in his scent from the pillow.

He throws me a devilish grin when he returns to the bed and gives my bottom a playful slap that makes me squeak, but I know better than to move away. I tense up when he places a blindfold over my eyes; his hands are soft, but they smell like gunpowder... As he draws it tight I open my mouth to speak but he beats me to it.

"Not going to hurt you gorgeous, I promise - no pain at all."

I relax instantly because here, doing this, he's a man of his word. "Thank you, Captain."

I hear a noise that's familiar but without my sight I can't quite place it. "Up on all fours," he says, "and come a little closer to me."

Feeling somewhat ungainly, I shuffle across until he halts my progress. "There's perfect. Now then pretty, this is a guessing game. I'm going to draw on you and you have to guess what it is, from how it feels. Understand?" I nod, hoping that he's not going to be using permanent ink. "Ok, then - first one." He goes still for a moment and then a line of intense cold creeps across the middle of my back from right to left. I cry out and arch, which throws his hand off its straight line and he tuts. "Do try and keep still, pretty. If you wriggle too much then I'll have to start awarding penalty points."

"Y - yes, Captain!" I take a deep breath and hold it in an effort to keep still. I know now of course that he's using ice, not ink and I'm acutely aware that he can easily reach every part of me.

"I'll start again - an easy one to begin with." He draws the ice across my back again, more firmly this time. I lock my arms in position as he drags it down, back across and then up again to where he began. "Well?"

Seems almost too simple, but he had said it would be easy. "A... square, Captain?"

"Correct. Next one..." He draws the ice cube down my spine from top to bottom and I gasp and shudder to the point he issues a warning. "Careful, pretty; remember what I said about penalty points." After the single downward line, two short diagonal ones both stemming from the bottom of the long line.

I try not to twitch as the run-off tickles my skin. "That was an arrow, Captain." I say confidently.

"Mmmm, right again. Looks like I should make them harder," he drawls as he strokes a warm hand up the back of my thigh and then slides it underneath me to wander across my stomach. Behind the blindfold I find that I feel strangely brave and before I know it, my mouth is moving.

"Captain - if I get them all right, do I win a prize?"

There's a moment of silence and I wonder if I'm about to experience retribution. I feel the soft warmth of his shirt as he leans over me and then I whimper and squirm when he presses and holds an ice cube against each of my nipples. He grinds them relentlessly against my skin until I'm panting and the only thing that stops me gasping out an apology is the fact that he's talking to himself as he torments me,

"Let's see.... Win a prize, win a prize.... What could you win... Ah! I know!" His hands leave me and I hear him throw the ice back into the bucket and then what I think is him looking through his toy box. I jump when the jarring sound of ice being stirred around in the metal bucket occurs right next to my ear and then there's the sound of it being set down on the table by the bed. I bite my lip when his tongue traces the edge of my ear and he nips on the lobe before saying softly, "Yes, darling - you can have a prize if you get them right. Now, let's see if you can go three for three; I'll do a word this time."

The initial chill makes me twitch but I'm used to the sensation by now and concentrate on the route the ice is taking across my skin. Two neat curves just below my neck... two straight lines below that. One continuous curve next and then another two straight lines.

"Well?"

I can't help smiling. "I think you wrote 'slut', Captain." I'm quietly triumphant at the thought of being one step closer to my prize, even if I've coloured slightly at saying that word out loud.

He chuckles softly and gives my hair a playful tug. "Three out of three. You're good at this, pretty." He reaches under me again and toys with each of my nipples in turn. My breathing quickens at his less than gentle ministrations and he drags his nails along my rib cage with his other hand. "Warmed up again nicely, haven't they, hm?"

"Y - yes," my voice is slightly hoarse and I lick my lips and try again. "Yes, Captain." The room is suddenly too warm and all I can think about is the cool ice. His head is next to mine in an instant and when he gently removes the blindfold I see mild concern in those brilliant blue eyes.

"What do you need, pretty?"

"May I have some water please, Captain?"

He smiles and pats my cheek. "When you ask so beautifully? Of course you can, precious." He picks up a glass and fills it, drops in a few ice cubes from the bucket. I stay on all fours as he raises the glass to my lips and carefully begins to tilt it. "Head back - that's it." I open my mouth and the cool liquid trickles in and slides down my throat, making me swallow hungrily. Before long it's empty and as he moves it away, a few drops miss my lips and trickle down my chin. I start to agonise about whether to lift a hand to wipe them away when he catches them with a kiss. "Messy," he chides with a smile and I can tell he isn't serious, especially when he adds a second kiss to my forehead. "Now then, can you keep that perfect score you have going?"

"I hope so, Captaiahhh!" My words are cut off when he presses ice against my back again.

"Concentrate," he says warningly. "It's another word, so pay attention if you want that prize."

I close my eyes and focus. It's easy to keep track of the first four or five letters, but as my skin becomes accustomed to the sensation it gets harder. When he steps back and throws the small chip of ice that's left back into the bucket I know I'm going to be taking an educated guess at the answer.

"Did you get it?" He strokes one hand over my back, warming it slightly while his other rummages in the bucket again.

"I think so, Captain. It was ahhhhh!" I arch my back and then actually try and wriggle to dislodge him when he applies a cube firmly along one of the cane marks on my arse! He quickly steps up close to the bed and holds me tightly in place against him.

"Ah, ah! Stay! Let yourself feel the whole sensation... Just feel..."

My buttocks clench repeatedly as with each millimetre of pressure I'm reminded of the sting of his cane but I try to do as he says and concentrate on it all and when I do, I realise that the ice immediately soothes away the sting. He works his way back and forth, one line at a time while I twitch and whimper quiet pleas. Eventually he finishes tracing along the sixth diagonal line and then makes me arch and practically squeak in surprise when rather than throwing the remainder of the cube back to the bucket, he simply pushes it inside me. I'm stunned into silence and just stare at him when he comes back into view.

"Now then, you were saying?" He arches an eyebrow and clicks his fingers in front of my face. "You still with me?"

The action startles me back to the moment and I nod. "Yes, Captain."

"Good. So tell me, what did I write on you just now?" He's smirking and I try not to pout.

I call up my guess, more determined than ever now to win. "I think it was 'plaything', Captain?"

The grin lights up his face and he kisses my nose. "You really are good! So responsive - and tenacious."

I can't help smiling at his praise and flex my shoulders. My muscles are starting to tire a little from having been in the same position so long, but as he just said - I'm determined.

"Last one, pretty - ready?" He removes another piece of ice and holds it in front of my face. "This one will be a phrase - I'll probably need more than just this one piece."

"Yes, Captain." I nod eagerly and take a slow, calming breath when it presses against my skin and start to concentrate again. He draws a circle. "The letter O," I think to myself, just as he adds a line inside the circle. "Must be a Q," I amend, but then he adds another line, and a smaller circle. What? It was only a small circle... Perhaps it was supposed to be a lowercase 'i'? There's a pause and then he begins again. Feels like a 'c', but then it's as though he joins the two ends together and I'm totally lost. His movements become faster and even though nothing makes sense and whenever I think I know what a letter might be, he does something to dispel my ideas, I still try and piece something together.

He begins to hum a tune as he works and I can tell that he's pleased with himself. Eventually he stops and moves back around to my head.

"Well? What did you make that one out to be, pretty?" He speaks around the last piece of ice he used, which he's now sucking on - the hollowing of his cheeks is quite distracting. Feeling miffed, I don't beat around the bush.

"I have no idea, Captain."

"Oh," he raises his eyebrows and gives me his best innocent look, which is actually immensely appealing. You don't speak Gallifreyan?"

I fix him with the best glare I can muster while on all fours but keep my voice unerringly polite. "No Captain, I don't. But I think you knew that."

He shrugs apologetically, still working on the ice. "Alright, yes. I cheated and it was mean of me. You can still have your prize."

"Thank you, Captain!" I try not to sound overly excited, but it's hard - his surprises are usually amazing and I can't think of a single one I haven't enjoyed. "What is it?"

He smiles and licks up the side of my neck with his icy-cold tongue and then picks up the ice bucket. "You've won...." He dips his hand into the container and I frown as he continues to mix the ice about. I swear, if he dumps the contents on me I'll... Before I can finish the thought he's pulled something out of the ice bucket and is holding it up for me to see...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

He smiles and licks up the side of my neck with his icy-cold tongue and then picks up the ice bucket. "You've won...." He dips his hand into the container and I frown as he continues to mix the ice about. I swear, if he dumps the contents on me I'll... Before I can finish the thought he's pulled something out of the ice bucket and is holding it up for me to see.

"A... Butt plug! Fresh out of an ice bucket!" He sees my eyes widen and his grin gets bigger. "Don't move, pretty - I'll just go and get the lube." When he comes back he's coating it liberally, if gingerly. "Ready?"

I bite my lip. I honestly don't know if I am. "Captain, I - "

"You do want your prize, don't you?" He says as he eases lube-covered fingers between my cheeks. His voice is gentle and coaxing and as he brushes a finger against the hole, pushing just the tip inside of me, I gasp softly. "That's it... Relax and let me in... Let it happen." He leans down and begins an erotic assault on my neck with his mouth that makes my whole body shudder; as a distraction technique he knows it's as good as any. He adds a second finger and I blush as he scissors them inside, stretching me - I don't think I'll ever not find this part embarrassing even though he seems to love it. As if on cue he begins to murmur to himself. "Could play with your gorgeous arse all day... So tight... Hot..." The fingers withdraw as he strokes his other hand down my back. "Not going to be hot in a moment though... Keep still now, until I tell you to move."

I grip handfuls of the duvet and clench my teeth so that my yelp is muffled when the tip of the ice-cold metal touches me. I concentrate on breathing until I hear his command to push back when he encourages me with a gentle tug on my hair and then a small noise of satisfaction as the plug slides fully into place. It's not particularly large but with the cold sensation it feels huge; it's as though I can feel it in the back of my throat. I clench reflexively and it renews the feeling - I don't hold back the whine this time and he laughs, though not unkindly.

“How does that feel, then?

“It feels bloody cold!” I answer, wriggling as though to escape the sensation. He strokes a hand down my back and then presses on the plug, rotating the pressure as he takes a grip on my hair and repeats his question.

“Apart from cold. How. Does it. Feel?”

The awkward angle of my neck means my moan is the very definition of strangled.

“It feels good, Captain. Unnghh! Really good!” I add in response to a particularly hard shove on the base of the toy. “‘S big, and ohhh…” my words get cut off as he slides the plug almost out of me before driving it back inside.

“Like having your arse fucked, don't you?” His voice has taken on that dark, dangerous quality that makes me shiver. “Something big filling it up… little slut.”

“Your slut, Captain,” I manage - his grip on my hair is impossibly tight, my head held back to a wholly unnatural angle. It feels amazing… and so of course he stops, with just one final thrust to embed the plug deep inside again.

“I think that could fast become your favourite toy - you look totally debauched.”

I do a very deliberate slow blink as I look up at him and am rewarded with a twitch of a smile before he turns away to pick up one of the items he had me choose earlier. A thought oops into my mind and I speak before I can stop myself.

“What's your favourite toy, Captain?”

"My favourite toy?" He stops and smiles, seemingly delighted at my question. "My favourite toy is you, pretty. You're all mine, to do whatever I want with." I can't stop a soft sigh of pleasure at his words and he smirks and moves close as he makes short work of buckling the collar around my throat and straightening the various chains. I twitch as the cold metal settles against my skin, making my nipples tighten. "Like that thought, don't you?" He runs his hand across my torso, lightly pinching and scratching the skin. "That you're my plaything?" He takes hold of one of the clamps and circles one of the hard buds with it, which at the same time reaching down, stroking at the wetness he finds, rubbing it into sensitive flesh. I whine, quiver and when he brings his fingertips to my lips I open my mouth eagerly and take them inside. His look is positively feral as he watches me.

"That's it... needy slut, aren't you? This is what you were made for, pretty. Do anything I want..."

His words surround me - an intoxicating fog that destroys anything other than my desire to please him. "Yes Captain," I answer, my voice is trembling and I feel tense in a way that somehow should be unpleasant, and yet I all I want is for him to wind me tighter.

He leans in and kisses me and madly, I blush at the thought that he might taste me from where I cleaned his fingers a moment ago. It's an infinitely gentle kiss but it makes my head swim as his tongue thoroughly explores my mouth and when his hand strokes between my legs again and I gasp, he catches my bottom lip in his teeth and bites gently. He kisses across my face, gives a playful tug on one of the collar's D rings and bites my shoulder. "Let's decorate you, shall we?"

He tweaks a nipple and attaches a clamp. I hiss with pain as I look down at the pinched flesh and force myself to relax into it as he fastens the other clamp into place.

“Very nice,” he says, stepping back. “This is a good look on you. Now, let's see how you like them - go to that corner.”

Slightly puzzled I turn and take a step but the sound of him very deliberately clearing his throat pulls me up short and I turn back. He smiles.

“On your knees.”

I sink slowly to my hands and knees, aware of how the chain that runs from the collar to the clamps dips into an arc, making it somehow seem heavier. I take a careful breath and then am stirred into action when he pushes lightly on my backside with the the flat of his boot. 

“Go on. And make it pretty for me.”

Pretty? I don't really know what he means, but try to summon up a modicum of feline grace as I make my way across the floor, keeping a careful watch on where I'm putting my hands. All the while I can hear his commentary from behind me…

“Definitely a good look; I knew that jewelled plug was a good choice. Good job that a clear gem goes with everything, those marks on your arse are turning to quite the pretty rainbow… Slow it down, now - don't want the floorshow to be over too soon, do we?”

“Don't we?” I think, though of course I don't say it loud. When I reach the corner I turn around carefully so that I'm facing in his direction again. The pain from the clamps is a steady throb - right at that point where it jumps between pain and pleasure. When I turn, I can see that he's sat down cross-legged, his ankle resting on the knee of his planted leg and his hands at his crotch. I'm just wondering what purpose this has served when he says,

“And back again.”

Seriously? I'm going to spend how long crawling back and forth? I make one move forward and then his voice comes again. "Head up - I want you looking at me all the way."

I lift my head and yelp at the jolt of pain caused by the tightening of the chain before dropping my gaze back to the floor quickly. His voice comes again - less encouraging this time and more demanding.

“Head. Up. And crawl. Back to me.”

I brace myself and carefully raise my head before setting off, but I only manage a couple of yards before it lowers again. In seconds he's crossed the room towards me and I freeze as he crouches down, bringing our heads nearly level. His hand goes into my hair and he pulls my head up slowly, for which I feel endlessly grateful. I try to ignore the pain, because I have to concentrate on what he's saying.

"Let me explain." His voice has that deadly calm quality and I have to press my lips closed to prevent a whimper escaping. "You're going to crawl to me with your head up nice and high, because it will please me to watch you do that. Drop it again and you will crawl ten laps of this room with me holding it up. Do you understand?"

I stare into implacable blue eyes and I know he's serious - he doesn't make idle threats. His grip tightens. "Answer me, slut!"

"Yes, Captain!" The pain in my nipples intensifies as he starts to pull my head back. "I understand!"

“Good. Now, back up - you can start again.”

He releases my hair and returns to his seat as I carefully shuffle backwards, not daring to drop my head even while he has his back to me. I wait, trying to keep my breaths shallow as possible as he settles himself. He raises an eyebrow.

“Come on. You don't want to disappoint me, do you?” There's an edge to his voice and his threat is still echoing in my head. I start to crawl, thinking of nothing other than keeping my eyes on his face. I can't stop a whimper escaping two thirds of the way in and as soon as it does, he smirks and leans forward almost eagerly.

I finally come to a stop in front of him and he strokes my hair gently.

“Very nice. Kneel up.” I do, and he looks directly into my eyes. “Does it hurt much?”

“Yes Captain,” I say honestly and try not to cringe away as he reaches for my chest. He gently runs his fingertips over the pinched flesh.

“Good hurt?”

Now that I'm upright I realise that the sharp pain has gone, leaving just a pleasurable throb and I blink in surprise and then nod carefully.

He smiles and grips each chain between forefinger and thumb and begins to gently tug at them. First just briefly, then the pull lasts for a few seconds, and then longer still until I start to wonder whether he's trying to simply pull them off. I'm breathing hard through my nose and clenching my fists tightly behind my back to help deal with the pain. He doesn't take his eyes from my face - every time I glance at him he's watching me intently.

“You do suffer so beautifully for me - makes me just adore hurting you, but,” - he sighs with regret - “don't want to damage you permanently, so they'd better come off now.”

I grit my teeth, as I know that the only thing more painful than wearing nipple clamps, is having them removed. His eyes finally move from my face and with deft fingers he quickly manipulates the metal on first one, then the other. I cry out with each removal and want nothing more than to curl into a ball until the intense pain subsides. Instead, I compose myself and look up at him.

“Thank you, Captain.”  
That response earns me a genuine smile and it seems that the hurt dissipates quite suddenly. He hooks a finger through the ring on the front of the collar and gets to his feet.

“Up.”

He leads me back over to the bed and then unbuckles the collar. “I want to be able to get to every inch of you,” he says by way of explanation, and then nudges me forward. “Lay on your front.”

I do as he says, somewhat gingerly until he shoves me down with a dark chuckle. My sore nipples are forced against the mattress and I groan with pain but he holds me in place, silently conveying that I'm not to move in order to reduce my discomfort.

"Time to play with the second toy you picked out, gorgeous..."

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully to be continued, if feedback is positive / constructive.


End file.
